Leaves float down one by one
carpeting the forest floor.
I can’t remember where I put my thoughts
as inspiration falters.
There is no one here to talk to
so I converse with the sky,
asking why everything has changed.
Why does the warbler have to leave?
Why does it have to be so cold?
Where has the warmth of youth gone &
why does the daylight fade?
Why does the flower have to die,
and why do I feel so lost?
So many things I would have done
if I had only known, but time got in the way.
A chilly wind sweeps up the leaves
& they swirl around in my mind.
Bundling up, I walk inside …
muttering to myself.
Copyright © 2025 Ann Christine Tabaka
All Rights Reserved

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